The Legend of Dragoon: A New Threat Rises
by WritingYourSocksOff
Summary: It's been another 11,000 years since the destruction of The Moon That Never Sets, and new conflicts are arising. A malevolent dictator has once again ascended. To combat this threat, two heroes from a bygone age have been chosen for rebirth. Together, they will lead the charge against both a dictator, and fate. *Mature language and themes, mature writing style.* Please R&R!
1. Disclaimer

Disclaimer: I do not own Legend of Dragoon or any of its original characters. The majority of the plot and characters within this novel are created by me, but the rights of characters, Dragoons, etc belong to Sony and this is a fun fanfiction that I thought up.


	2. Prologue

**NOTE: This Prologue is written in the POV of four different characters. In order, they are: Miranda, Dart, Kongol and Meru. Following this, the chapters will be done in a single, alternating point of view. Each chapter will have the name of the character across the top of it. In this instance, there are four of them. **

**PROLOGUE**

**MIRANDA**

I push myself forwards even as my wounds might stop a normal woman.

But I am not a normal woman. I am a Dragoon, recognized by the White-Silver Dragoon Spirit and First Sacred Sister of Mille Seseau. I would not be stopped by such trivialities as wounds when there was so much at stake. Despite my powers as a Dragoon, however, I can feel my body ache in protest. I was not as young as I once was, and the last time I had worn my Dragoon armour had been more than twenty years ago. The face that looked back at me in the mirror was one that I barely recognized.

I fly high over Indels Castle in Bale, observing the battle from on high and exhale angrily at what I see. The battle was not going well for us, of that I was certain. Even from here I can see that those that had taken our enemy's side were butchering the few soldiers that remained loyal to King Albert.

They had been taken by surprise several weeks ago when, seemingly out of nowhere, one of Albert's top Knights seized control of his and three other Knighthoods based out of the fort of Hoax and began marching across the countryside. Swiftly, the King had sent out messengers to his allied Kingdoms, both Tiberoa and Mille Seseau, for aid. It had been I who first read the letter delivered to the Crystal Palace and told Queen Theresa of Basil's need. I asked Queen Theresa to take care of the arrangements of the Knighthoods and send what aid she could spare whilst I flew immediately for Bale to speak with King Albert. That had been two weeks ago.

But it had all been a very clever ruse. While I and Albert's councilors made plans to march against the oncoming Knighthood head on in an attempt to avoid civilian casualties with a battle at Bale, _she_ had been plotting all the while. I, alongside my fellow remaining Dragoon warriors Dart, Kongol, Meru and Albert, led the vanguard against Albert's own Knighthood in the countryside between Hoax and Bale. It had been then that the true nature of our enemy was revealed.

While the majority of King Albert's forces were busy confronting what we thought was our only enemy, the traitor bitch had seized control of Indels Castle and Bale and declared herself Queen. I had witnessed first hand the sadness and depression that had taken hold of Albert as he was delivered the news – his own _daughter _had staged the entire affair in order to gain control of the throne, even going as far as to convince the Heads of several different Knighthoods of the justness of her cause.

And so, it was with a heavy heart that my fellow Dragoons and I began deliberations on how to proceed against one of our own. We had been stuck between two points – the advancing traitor Knighthoods, and the occupied Bale. Tiberoan forces were still several weeks away, and Mille Seseau was even farther, so we could expect no help from them. It was decided amongst the Dragoons that we would march immediately for Bale, with Albert acting as our diplomat. He thought perhaps he could reason with his daughter and bring the entire rebellion to heel.

He had been wrong.

It was not until his head was waved before us on the ramparts of the city walls that we realized our mistake.

And now we were here, fighting for our lives and the very future of Bale, against Albert's own daughter.

I glance down again and catch sight of Dart amidst the centre of the city. His Dragoon form is far larger than any of the rest of us, for he had been recognized by the Divine Dragon Spirit within the Moon That Never Sets, and his power was beyond any of us. I watched as he charged his Divine Dragon cannon and let loose a devastating blast that obliterated at least twenty enemy soldiers before he leapt back into action.

I fold my wings inward and descend in his direction, looking to join up with him and gather the others for a full-scale assault upon the castle, where the self-proclaimed Queen was surely hiding. As I fly, I sense another presence closing in beside me. At this altitude, it can be no one other than a Dragoon, and so I turn to see Meru flying to meet me.

"It's not looking good," I say against the wind as we rush towards the ground.

Meru does not reply with anything other than a shake of her head.

**DART**

I cut down another soldier and wince as his blood spatters my face. I glance out over the ruined city and feel only sorrow. To have lost so many people already, adding more to the list of the dead was growing difficult to handle.

First it had been Lavitz at the hands of Lloyd, then it had been Haschel, who could do nothing against the ravages of time and passed peacefully in his home village of Rouge just two years ago. And now Albert, betrayed and murdered by his own daughter…

I worried for Queen Emille, who had been inside what we had all thought was a safe castle at the time of Princess Diana's ultimate betrayal. I did not want to think about it, but if the girl had been willing to murder her father…

I glance up at the sound of wings flapping and see Miranda and Meru descending towards me. Miranda knocks her bow and lets loose a magical arrow that flies through the air too fast for me to follow. A musical hum sounds and fills my ears as the arrow whizzes past me and into the skull of an approaching soldier. The two women land beside me with a soft sound. Meru lands directly beside the fallen soldier and, with a wrinkle of her nose, steps sideways and away from him.

"Dart," shouts Miranda over the battle. "We have to find the bitch, and –"

"I know," I say, nodding firmly. That would end this noisome rebellion once and for all. What would happen next, I didn't know.

Meru nods once, though I can see that this weighs on her heavily. The Princess Diana was someone they had all watched grow up and grown close to. My own children considered her a close friend, much as I had considered Albert in the same regard. To have to kill her would be difficult on Meru, I could see. But I could also see the understanding in her eyes – she knew that it was necessary.

The loss of Albert had hit them all hard, and as they had stood at the foot of the gates of Bale and witnessed their friend's head paraded around so… Nothing had filled me with such anger before. I had transformed immediately and blasted down the gate with the Divine Dragon cannon, tearing a path for the few Knighthoods that had remained to us.

"FOR YOUR KING!" I had shouted, dashing forwards to begin the battle. That had been hours ago, and the night was wearing on. The stars shone brightly up above, illuminating the streets where the flames of war had missed. I had hoped never to have to transform again after we had defeated Melbu Frahma, but fate, it seemed, was cruel.

_ Fate…_I think.

"Where is Kongol?" asks Meru, pulling me out of my thoughts. She sounds worried.

I look around, scanning the skies for the large Golden-armoured Giganto and spot him after a moment, descending from the sky in a great ball of golden fire, smashing through an entire battalion of the Diana's loyalists. I nod at Meru who whizzes off to collect him and turn to Miranda.

"She'll be in the castle," she says, casting a dark glare towards it.

I nod in agreement and we both push off from the ground without a word and fly towards the castle. As we fly, Meru and Kongol join up with us and the four of us form a diamond as we soar across the city. I do what I can as we fly with the Divine Dragon Cannon, but it is difficult to aim, and I don't want to harm our own troops, so I refrain for the most part.

Below us, the city has fallen to madness. Screams fill the air, and the sounds of battle can be heard throughout. After the death of the King, many of the civilians remaining in the city had been absolutely dumbfounded, I knew. But I had watched with pride as one of them, a merchant of sorts, stood atop an overturned wagon and called for retaliation. With a cry, he grabbed the pitchfork from the haystack in the back of the wagon and leapt forward and into the battle, with many others behind him with whatever they could find – I saw one woman with a rolling pin, bashing a soldier's helmet in.

Even now the city was aflame. As I fly overheard, I cannot help but think about Lavitz's mother and wonder whether or not she made it out of the city. I had not seen her in a few years, but even after the death of Lavitz, we had kept in contact, and Shana and I had often taken our children there for dinners. Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt that I had not thought of her sooner.

I look in the direction of Lavitz's house and while the surrounding houses are aflame, I can see that the large house belonging to the Slambert family remains relatively unscathed. The square in which the house resides, thankfully, seems to have calmed and the battles taken elsewhere. Even from this distance I can see people moving, dark shadows slipping in and out of houses and between alleyways, and can only hope that one of them is Lavitz's mother.

It is a short flight despite the size of the city – we traverse the skies quite quickly as Dragoons – and alight upon the ground. A group of twenty or so soldiers meets us upon the steps to the castle with their lances and swords raised. They do not charge, and I can see the fear in their eyes. These are all young men who grew up on the stories of the legendary Dragoon warriors who had saved the world more than twenty years ago. Since then, the stories had only grown taller and taller until we Dragoons had become something much more than we really were.

Seeking to take advantage of their hesitation, I see Miranda raise her right hand and channel the magic of her Spirit, causing a brilliant white light to shine out from her person and illuminate the courtyard. The spell effectively blinded the soldiers, and it was easy for Meru, Kongol and myself to rush forwards and lay waste to their numbers during the confusion.

Nodding once to the assembled group, we rush forwards as one mind and enter the castle.

**KONGOL**

Human castle was big, but not big enough for Kongol.

I smash through the front gate with my friends and find myself in the center of a great castle with stairs leading up through the place. Everywhere I look I see familiar things – things that had been in Kazas with Emperor Doel as well. Humans all liked big, shiny things, Kongol had noted. Large paintings of all kinds covered the stone walls of the castle, and the starlight from outside shone through the many windows in the great castle's foyer.

I grunt, nodding towards the stairs. "More tiny humans will come," says Kongol. His accent was heavy and his words a bit muddled, but he had come along way these last twenty years. Before he died, Haschel had taught him much more about humans and friends than Kongol would have thought possible. He still found the language of humans complicated at times, however. Giganto was much simpler, but there was no need for that anymore, not since the Gigantos had been all but annihilated.

Kongol can see leader Dart nod in affirmation and he says, "Diana will be in the throne room."

Though Kongol did not have much experience with human emotions, Kongol could see that this statement caused his friend pain. Kongol knew that pain too. It was the pain of loss – a loss to come. Kongol had known much loss. His entire race was gone, his brother, Hero of Gigantos, could not stand up to the human enemies, and he had just been small. Emperor Doel had taken him in, but even he had been lost to Kongol. And then, Kongol knew true friends. But now they were gone too. Master Haschel and human King Albert gone now too.

Kongol knew that Dart was sad about these things, like Kongol. Like all of them. But Kongol also knew, like Dart, that they would have to fight to continue.

"Let's go then," says human Miranda, with a steel in her voice that Kongol liked. Kongol liked Miranda because he thought they were alike – both quiet and full of strength, but a different kind. Miranda was tender, Kongol knew, inside, just like him. He liked that they were the same.

"Hmph!" grunts Kongol, launching himself off of the marble floor and up the staircase. He turns to his right to find that the doorway is much smaller, made only for humans. He shakes his head. "Dragoons can't fit," Kongol calls out from atop the staircase. "Humans only."

Kongol watches as Dart and friends come forwards and see what Kongol sees. Leader Dart is the first person to speak.

"Kongol's right – we'll need to transform and proceed on foot. Kongol, can you fit in your normal form?"

Kongol lets the power of the Dragon eek out of him as he transforms into his normal humanoid form. His giant, golden wings fold inwards and a bright, golden light shines throughout the hall. As it dies, Kongol's humanoid form is revealed and he rushes forwards and inspects the doorway. He nods. "Kongol fits if Kongol crouches down low. Kongol can continue. Kongol must fight for King of humans."

Kongol watches as the rest of the group does the same, reverting to their regular forms. Even in their Dragoon forms they are smaller than Kongol, but now they looked very, very small. Kongol knew, though, that humans were powerful even if they were tiny. Winglies too.

Kongol squeezes through the doorway – a tighter fit than he had thought previously – and leads the group down a large hallway lined with windows streaming moonlight. The group cuts through a small group of soldiers guarding a doorway, but encounter no more as they continue jogging through the halls.

Kongol hears Wingly Meru speak behind him. "It's too easy," she calls out. "Like we're being let through."

Kongol doesn't understand. "Humans cannot beat Dragoons. Dragoons legendary warriors. Humans flee."

Leader Dart shakes his head as they continue running down the halls of the castle, towards the throne room where they'd all witnessed Albert and Emille's wedding ceremony. "Not these humans, Kongol. Diana has them convinced enough to kill their own King, they'll fight Dragoons sure enough."

Kongol grunts, unconvinced. As they run, Kongol notices a sealed door at the end of the hall. "Ah!" Kongol yells, loud enough for the others to hear. "Through there is the great hall, and then the room with the big chair." Kongol knew there was a better way of saying it, but he couldn't think of it now. He increased his speed as he approached the door and brought forward his right shoulder, attempting to barrel the door down. As he makes contact with it, the door gives way immediately, and Kongol crashes into the great hall, making much noise.

Kongol had been going too fast, though, and stumbles a bit as he enters and takes a moment to right himself. They are standing in the center of the great hall with upturned tables all around, as if some big battle had taken place here.

"It looks like Albert's loyalists put up quite a fight when Diana tried to take the castle," Miranda says, looking around the room.

Now Kongol sees the bodies. It was difficult before, because Kongol was so tall, but as I look out across the hall, I can see them. Knights, all of them. Some friendly, some enemy, though it was impossible to tell since they all were from the same country.

Wingly Meru looks out across the hall with sad eyes and says, "Such death. I-I didn't think, I didn't know that Diana could –"

Leader Dart shakes his head. "None of us knew, Meru. Let's just… continue, and do what we have to do."

Kongol nods, agreeing with Dart. He was the leader, after all – and as such he had a strong power. Kongol had seen it firsthand. Kongol would follow Dart to the very end.

**MERU**

The party rushes forwards and through the hall, weapons out and ready.

All of this death was beginning to bother me. Winglies of the past, eleven thousand years ago had been instruments of torment and death, it was true, but the Winglies of the Forest had been raised differently. The Ancestor had taught them all the value of life, and to cherish every living thing, regardless of origin. And even through my travels, I had learned even more than that. I had learned that all creatures come from the same place – the Divine Tree – and that we are all equals.

So… All of this death and destruction, and from someone we all knew…

I shake my head as if this physical action will rid my mind of my darker thoughts and press on, following behind Dart as we rush through the castle hallways. In this instance, everyone was trusting Dart, for he had spent the most time here. We had all been here before for certain occasions. Albert's and Emille's wedding, a few of… A few of Diana's birthdays, but it was Dart who lived closest and visited most often, so the others and I trusted him to lead the way to the throne room.

Finally, we reach a set of ascending stairs that I recognize as the entrance to the throne room and we stop. I look at each of my companions in turn, reading their emotions. Miranda, unsurprisingly, is full of anger and determination, but under that, if I dig a little deeper, I can sense her inner turmoil. She too had watched the Princess Diana grow up, and I knew that Miranda had never had the opportunity or inclination to be a mother herself, but that she had cherished Diana in a similar fashion.

And then there was Kongol. He was easier to read than the others – his thoughts and emotions were usually displayed on his face for all to see. Now, however, he was a blank slate. I sensed his devotion to Dart and his confidence in their powers as Dragoons. Still too, like Miranda, there was sadness underneath.

And then there was Dart, their fearless leader. Of all the things to be thinking about, I knew what it would be. Dart would be thinking about his family, about Shana and his children, Lavitz and Claire, and where they were through all this.

Dart turned as if he sensed Meru's gaze and he nodded. "Remember your promise to me, Meru?"

Sadness fills my heart and I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. I remember the promise well enough. When we first received the news of Bale's occupation, Dart had been instantly worried for Shana and his children, and had asked Albert to dispatch a group of Knights to Seles to alert Shana of the dangers. Albert had agreed.

Privately, however, Dart had asked another favour of me particularly.

"It has to be you, Meru," he had whispered to me. We had been sitting in his tent in the dead of night, one day's march away from Bale. "Only you can do it. Miranda would never agree, and Kongol wouldn't either."

I had been confused at the time, but once he told me, I disagreed with him. The others would do it for him. They would do it for Dart, their leader, and they would do it for Shana, whom they had all come to love.

"If the battle goes badly," he had said, "if we cannot overcome the occupied forces of Bale, I want you – no, I _need_ you – to survive and to take care of Shana and my children. Fly them out of Serdio and take them far away. If Diana wants the throne, I…" He had hesitated here, unsure of what to say, but I had known. If Diana was willing to seize Bale by force, as Doel had done, then she was just as bad, or worse, than he had been. And it had not been above Doel to kidnap Shana. "She might try to remove anyone who might stand against her, and that… that would include Shana."

I hadn't said anything at first. I knew what he was asking. If the battle did not go in our favour, he was asking me to flee. He was asking me to abandon my friends and the just cause that we fought for, and flee. I had cried, tears streaming down my face, as he pleaded with me.

"M-Miranda would do it, or Kongol! They would do it for _you_ Dart. And they would do it for Shana. Why does it have to be me?" That much was true, at least. I was convinced that Miranda or Kongol would agree. Dart had always painted himself as a poor leader, but we all knew the truth of it. We would have done anything for him.

"You have a power that they don't, Meru. The magic power of the Winglies! If I die, I need you to make sure my family is safe. Take them to the Forest of Winglies, take them to Ulara – Shana's never seen it. She would like that, I think."

I had bristled. "I think she'd like it a lot better if you took her there, dummy!"

Dart had not smiled. Instead, he had looked at me with such intensity that I felt like a little girl again, an immature little girl who hadn't taken anything seriously. "Promise me, Meru."

I hesitated for only a moment before I nodded and whispered, "Okay. I promise."

"Meru?" I heard Dart say.

Suddenly, I become aware again of where I am. I am standing at the base of the throne room's staircase. Dart is looking at me, confused.

"Meru, tell me you will do as you promised."

I nod, still confused about where I was. That memory had felt so real, like I had been there all over again. Sometimes even the magic of a Wingly could be confusing.

Behind me, I hear Miranda draw an arrow from her quiver and place it against the string of her bow. "I am ready," she said. I was impressed to see that her voice didn't waver at what they were about to do.

"Kongol too," grunted the Giganto.

Dart looks at me. In that look I see so much more than his determination. He wants to do the right thing, he wants to avenge Albert, he wants to bring justice to Diana, he wants his family safe.

"Are you ready, Meru?"

I hesitate. Was I ready? I was ready to fight, certainly. Was I ready to kill the girl who was Albert's daughter? Was I ready to flee, if the situation required it, and abandon my friends to their fates in order to save myself? After a moment of reflection, I decide upon my answer.

"I… am ready to do what I must," I say, mustering up as much confidence as I can. "I think Albert would agree."

Dart smiles a sad smile, and nods. "I think so too."

And with that, Dart strides forwards and up the stairs, pushing the large, ornate doors to the throne room open wide, with the rest of the Dragoons following behind him, as we had done many times before. We were ready to fight against fate once more.


	3. Chapter 1: Anastasia

**ANASTASIA**

BLOOD.

It's all I've ever known. It's all I dream of, all I think of. It's all I smell in the air, all I taste on my tongue, and all I feel in my heart, for there is no memory within me that is not tainted with crimson. Found one winter's eve, practically buried beneath the pile of bodies left in my wake, drenched in blood, with no memory of who, or what, I was…

My life began that day, and from that day on, I have lived for the kill. Because to be born in blood is to live for blood. And so I have for many long years.

I'd been taken from that clearing and thrust into the tournament, and there I have stayed, crowned champion, killing for the cheers of the crowd.

Just as I was now.

I was not unduly worried. The last remaining opponent in the coliseum was not overly formidable. The other two that had begun with us were already dead. One killed by my own hand, the other impaled to death after having fallen into the spike-pit at the center of the arena. My final opponent stands across from me, trying desperately to cease the steady flow of blood from the gash I'd left in his arm. He wouldn't bleed to death, I'd made sure the wound wasn't deep enough for that, but the loss of blood was already beginning to make him lose focus. His sword hung limply within his grasp, and his eyelids fluttered back and forth, as though he were struggling to stay conscious.

The crowd screams my name, cheering me on. Pushing me towards the inevitable kill. "Everyone's got a favourite," Grayson, my trainer, always said to me. "And right now, you're everyone's favourite."

I knew what it meant to be the favoured champion. I knew that if the crowd liked you, really liked you, then the arena masters would find a way to get you through alive. Whether it be screaming your name, or casting their bids for the winner, usually the crowd favourite made it through generally unscathed. To be honest, the whole tournament was a little one-sided. Deadly creatures would find themselves released on the opposite side of the arena, placed perfectly to devour the weaker, less popular gladiators first. If the people screamed your name and waved your colours in their hands, then you would live.

"But remember," Grayson would always add, "you won't be the favourite forever. There will always be someone else down the road that will capture the people's hearts like you never will, in a different way. And, in time, the same will happen to them."

"The people," he said, "are fickle. You need to rely on the crowd's favour as much as your own skill. Play the game and live a while longer. For the day will soon come where the lions are on your end of the arena."

Accepting this was easy. I had always relied on my own skill to survive in this arena. Cheers didn't slit throats or gut vicious animals. I did. The crowd's favour meant nothing to me. No cheer, no matter how loud, could replace the feeling of cold, hard steel beneath my hands. The thrill of battle, the stench of blood… No, their cheers could not replace such things. But I could pretend because I knew I had to. And so it was with a deep disgust that I smiled and waved at the crowd as I took each of my victories.

The screams of the crowd are still ringing in my ears, driving me forwards, sword raised. It's kill or be killed here in this arena, and when you've killed as much as I have, there is no choice to make.

My opponent, a man – no, a boy, as he could have been no older than eighteen years – seemed to realize that the longer he stood still, the weaker he got as the blood seeped from his wound. I see the realization in his face as he puts two and two together. The faster he kills me, the quicker the healers will get to him.

He charges me, raising his sword arm as best he can, but even from ten feet away I can see the flaws in his loose grip. His blow is easy to parry, and so weak and feeble is his grip upon his sword that it falls from his grasp and to the sandy ground as our blades collide.

He sinks to his knees, utterly defeated and exhausted from the effort, sobbing. I stand above him sword held firmly at my side. The crowd continues to scream my name, but heard even above that was something new, something that was even now spreading amongst the crowd, growing louder.

"Kill" is the new chant, and it rings in my ears, completely overwhelming as the entire coliseum joins in. And yet, loud as it is, it cannot ever drown out the sound of the boy beneath me. Sobbing uncontrollably, he raises his head to look at me. Tears stream down his face as he slowly begins to crawl backwards away from me. Without thought, I pursue at a leisurely pace until his back hits the side of the wall.

_End of the line_, I think.

"Please," he cries to me. "Please…"

I say nothing. I can imagine what I look like to him. Stern, filled with no empathy, covered in his own blood, poised to strike the final blow. What would it be like, I wonder briefly, to stare death in the face? Certainly, that was what I was to this boy, even he had already accepted it judging by his defeated stance and the pleading.

I glance up at the crowd above me. A mass of screaming violet, my champion's colours, overwhelms my vision. People are screaming my name, screaming for me to kill, to end the boy's life and take my victory. My gaze passes them, and drifts ever higher, towards the Royal Box, where the Queen, my savior, sits with her entourage. She watches me carefully, her snow-white hair billowing softly in the light breeze. We make eye contact, and she gives me an almost imperceptible nod, and I know this is my cue.

But before I can turn back to him, the cowering boy speaks.

"Look at me," he says, just loudly enough for me to hear. "I want you to look at me when you kill me."

Perhaps he expects pity to well up within me, some sort of mercy, or empathy to spring forth. If so, no such thing is forthcoming. I cannot say for certain who or what I was like before I was saved from that clearing, but I know now that no such emotions exist within me now. I do look at him though, long and hard.

"This is all just a game!" he screams at me, growing more and more hysterical as I walk closer towards him. "You'll see one day; you're nothing to her! The Queen's pet for now, but what then? What are you if not a killer? What will you be worth once you've won every battle there is to win?"

Though he is yelling, there is no way the crowd above us can hear him, and so I lean inwards, my sword at his throat, and whisper, "Blood, you see… Is all I have ever known." I apply the smallest amount of pressure to my sword, nicking his throat and causing it to release a delicate trickle of blood. "I was born in blood, and so, I live for blood. And so long as you, and those like you, keep coming, I will never stop killing."

It's over before he can even blink. In a split second, I pull my sword to the left, slashing his throat wide open and spattering myself with his blood. His ruined corpse tumbles to the ground as the crowd's scream reach a whole new level.

Though killing comes naturally to me, the aftermath is always so confusing. I feel no remorse and no pity. No sadness exists within me for the boy now lying dead at my feet. There is no measurable amount of empathy that I possess to extend towards his mangled corpse, so instead I instantly turn away from the ruined man lying in the sand, drop my sword to the ground, and turn to walk out of the arena. I am sure to smile and wave all the while, solidifying myself as the crowds' favourite for another day. The arena doors open and I step inside, handing my sword to the waiting guardsman immediately. The doors shut ominously behind me and the sounds of the cheering crowd are cut off.

I am escorted down the hallway and up a flight of stairs to the champions' quarters where I make my home during the competition. The two guards bring me to my room – though it is more like a cell – and close the door. Inside is nothing but an uncomfortable bed with a straw mattress and a small desk tucked in a corner. In the opposite corner is a small pail to shit in that gets emptied less often than I would like.

I sit down on the edge of my bed and relive my experiences in the arena, hoping to learn something else, but instead my mind drifts back to my rebirth, as it often does.

_Born in blood_, I think, reliving the moment where I was discovered in that clearing, covered in crimson, surrounded by a heap of Imperial bodies. Memories stripped from me, left with nothing but hate and rage, and the thrill of the kill.

The Queen had approached me in robes of white, her cloak trailing behind her in the breeze, her arms outstretched as if to embrace me. Her expression was one of wonder and surprise, yet I had known only peace as she walked forwards, as though her presence soothed the monster within me.

"Child," she had said to me, barely a foot from me. "You have been reborn here today."

I had collapsed into her arms, crying, as she held me and whispered to me.

"Born in blood," she had whispered more to herself than to me. She pushed me off of her then, gently so, so that we were looking into each other's face. "You will live for blood, child, from this day onwards." She had said it with a kind of sadness, as though she already knew what my fate was for certain. "With a new life, comes a new name. You are Anastasia. Oh, my beautiful Anastasia."

She had turned away from me then, leaving me in the center of the clearing, tears still streaming down my face. Her guards approached me and I followed them willingly, as I would until the end of my days, so long as they would lead me towards _her_.

My savior.


End file.
